


Interview with the Coopers

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [32]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Dates, Established Relationship, F/M, First Meeting, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Smut, Vampire Jughead, angst and pain, blood sucking, bughead - Freeform, little bit of violence, meet cute, preslash, single mom betty, teacher jughead, vampire betty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: What a perfect little family they make





	Interview with the Coopers

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you
> 
> Enjoy!

Jughead tugs on his blue jumper over his shirt and tie and peaks out at the sky. It's grey and cloudy, as per usual. 

With a rueful grin he grabs his satchel and slings it over his shoulder, before grabbing a cupcake from the counter (a few days old), and crunches into the sugary staleness as he bundles outside. The cold ruffles against his dark hair in greeting, and he nods a little as he clambers onto his motorbike. As he drives under the dark silver sky, he half smiles at the white picket fences and the perfect lanes.

He waves a little when he drives past the Cooper house. 

Ms Cooper is watering the flowers in the garden, and her daughter; Emily, is playing abstractly. 

What a perfect little family they are, he thinks to himself. 

He gets into school early and spends a while setting everything up. It's quiet and peaceful and he's just finished setting down the different coloured pencils at each tiny desk, when a small voice jumps him out of his skin. 

He whirls around to see Emily, all brilliantly pale and big blue eyes. "Hello, Mr Jones," she chimes, clutching her book bag to her chest. He smiles; relieved, and crouches down in front of her to tweak her nose. 

"Hey, Em." He says, looking around her but seeing no one else. "You're here early this morning."

There's something twinkling in her eyes, and she nods. She's got the brilliant blonde hair of her mother; the same stunning eyes. "I wanted some reading time." She explains, and he lifts his eyebrows fondly. She is the best reader in the class. She excels at it. Once or twice, he's sure he's spotted actual  _novels_ in her book bag. 

He stands up, nodding. "Sure, sure, you do that. I'm just gonna keep setting up, is that cool?" 

She nods. They work in companionable silence, and when he's done, he sits in his desk and starts up his laptop. As it whirs to life he looks up at the class room; empty bar her, and frowns. Something always sends his senses a little haywire around her. Something prickles along the nape of his neck. Maybe he's not getting enough sleep-

"Did you get new cologne, Mr Jones?" Emily asks, breaking him out of his reverie, and his eyes snap back to hers. 

He takes a second to process the question. "Uhh, yeah, actually," he laughs a little incredulously. "Why? Does it smell atrocious?" He sniffs at his shoulder, and then internally rolls his eyes at himself. Six year olds don't know what the word atrocious means. He's about to give her a simpler synonym, when she shakes her head.

"No. It's just different that's all."

He stares at her; lips parted a little in surprise, before chalking it up to those fantastic Cooper genes. He wonders if Mr Cooper was just as smart as his wife before he passed, and feels a distant pang of sympathy, before the rest of the students start to filter in.

For the first time since he's been here, it's actually sunny at lunchtime. He laughs a little to himself, considering the very rainy reputation of the town. He notices Emily staying inside with her book, and feels bad, so makes his way back in. He sits with her and eats his lunch, and she seems happier. 

 

* * *

 

"It's actually an honour to meet you," Jughead says, smoothing down his tie when Ms Cooper takes a seat opposite him. She's almost _unrealistically_ beautiful. "I mean- obviously, we've said hi and stuff on the playground, but-" he stops talking, nerves bubbling out of him. She looks flawless, flawless in a very non-human way, and her brilliant white teeth flash at him whilst she smiles. She's in all pastel pinks and she looks so soft and golden and wonderful. "Well, Emily is- she's amazing, obviously. Top of the class, wonderfully mannered, uh..." he shuffles the paper in front of him. "Nothing negative to report." 

Ms Cooper smiles gently, eyes focused on the desk. "She likes you very much, Mr Jones." She says quietly. There's something distinct about the way she speaks, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

He half nods; focused on the curl of her eyelashes. "Call me Jughead, please."

"And I'm Betty," she reaches out her hand, and he shakes it. It's hot in his. Really hot. Even though the hall is rather cool. Something seems...wrong. "You're her favourite teacher. When we're at home, she talks of little else but you. We've moved around a lot, and some of her teachers weren't so encouraging about what she could and couldn't read. Emily is a very voracious reader."

Jughead nods. "She's fantastic. I was actually wondering if we should recommend pushing her a grade forward-"

"No." Betty says sweetly, but firmly. An edge of steel amongst the rose petals. "I think it would be best if she kept socialising with those her own age."

Jughead's only been in town six months, but he wonders if all parents are like this.

 

* * *

 

Jughead can't sleep.

He's been tossing and turning all night, and he finally gives up. He shucks on some old clothes and sticks on slippers before heading outside. He walks without a real destination in mind. Just under the bright white moon, down long empty streets. He sticks his hands in his pockets, but it's a warm night.

He gets to the park soon, and frowns. There's someone sitting on the bench. He goes against his instincts and walks closer, beaming when he realises who it is. "Betty," he calls, and she looks up with pleased eyes as he shuffles towards her. He sits down next to her and groans. "Couldn't sleep, huh?" He guesses, tipping his head back, arching his neck and looking up at the sky.

Suddenly there's a hard hand in his hair, shoving his head back upright and facing forward. He stiffens in surprise, turning to look at Betty who's swallowing thickly. "I couldn't sleep." She says, and he's suddenly thinking maybe he should go back home. Being manhandled isn't something he likes, no matter who it's by.

"Right," he murmurs, confused. "Maybe I should-"

"We should go out for coffee, sometime," she says instead, and he blanches.

And then he's nodding vigorously. "Yes! Yes, yeah," he fumbles for his phone in his pockets before realising he doesn't have it on him. He looks up at her desperately, and she's smiling at him. She hands him hers, it's expensive and the latest model, and he types in his number. "Whenever you want." He says, standing up. "I'm always free- just whenever you want."

She laughs a little, and it's like the sweetest music. "Sounds good, Jughead. Sorry for..." she motions to her hand, and he nods a little; still confused. "My husband used to do it." She explains, and his shoulders ease at the confession. "He was a big star gazer, and it...it just reminds me."

He feels like a jerk, and he kicks at the ground with his damp, mud stained slipper. "I'm sorry, Betty," he murmurs honestly, and it's not just for the over-reaction. 

 

* * * 

 

Betty is an angel and Jughead is in love.

She's divine. She's a goddess. Every second spent with her is a second that gives his life some meaning. She's funny and witty and incredibly well read. She's elegant and poised in a way that women just don't seem to be anymore. Her dress is understated but always expensive and in style and flattering beyond belief. And Emily; Emily is just as wonderful outside of the classroom as she is inside. 

He and Betty go on early morning runs together. He just wants to be close to her, but it's nice; jogging in the pre-dawn streets. She's so in shape it makes him feel guilty, and she always has a thick, plastic water bottle at her side.

She takes things slowly with him, which he understands. She was married, after all. There aren't any pictures of her husband in the house but there are pictures of her and her daughter. They've been everywhere together, and in such a short space of time. They look the same age as they are now but the backdrop is always different; Paris, New Orleans, Moscow, Canberra. It's incredible. It's no wonder they're both so well-versed. Betty has some government job that she can't talk too much about, but he doesn't mind. Hearing her talk about anything is a luxury. 

She kisses him like a reserved thing. She cradles his cheeks with her hands; her fingers so soft and so fragile they barley make an impression into his skin. He kisses her back just as softly as he can, but it always seems too hard, and she always pulls away. 

And then one night, there's a knock on his door. 

He opens it to see Betty; her skin flushed pink like he's never seen, and a half bottle of wine in her hand. She unbuttons her coat and his jaw unhinges. 

She's an  _angel._

She keeps complete control the whole time; she sets the pace and he lets her; worried he'll scare her away. She rides him slowly, languidly, whilst he buries his face in her neck kissing and sucking and touching her anyway that he can. Everything about her is perfect, she's so perfect, and she's with him for some reason he can't understand. 

They arrive together, and he curls around her as she sleeps. 

She's gone in the morning, but there are pancakes on the stove and a note by the coffee machine. 

 _Till next_ _time x_ it says, and he spends the whole day grinning. 

 

* * * 

 

"Not yet," Betty whispers; hands braced on his chest as he stutters up into her. Emily's asleep in her room, and he's nearly sinking into this thick, plush mattress. She's grinding slowly, circling her hips, and her golden hair is haloed around her face. 

He groans, tipping his head back in anguish. He doesn't think he can hold off. Not when she's so wet, and perfect and  _tight_ around him. His hands find her hips, holding on tightly, and then one of her hands slides up his chest and to his neck. 

He can feel his pulse quicken as she curls her hand around his throat. He wonders if maybe they should have talked about bdsm or limits or something- before her hand scatters away to his hair; fisting into it just the way he likes. He keens into her grasp, panting. "Not yet," she says again, moaning. She's getting close. He can tell from the way she convulses around him. He bites his lip in distraction, as he feels his orgasm start to come. 

His teeth dig in so hard to his bottom lip that he can feel a burst of blood. He curses, swiping his tongue over it, when Betty leans down. 

Her pupils are blown larger than he's ever seen. The blue of her eyes now just a slim rim. She kisses him, and he can feel the coppery tang between them both. And then she's catching his lower lip in her mouth and sucking and he chokes a little bit. Her teeth are-

"Betty," he manages, struggling a little. "That hurts-"

She pulls off for a second and he stares up at her in horror. There's something in her face. Her lips are a little red. She looks down at him and softens, before closing her eyes in pain. He leans up to comfort her. "Oh, Juggie," she whispers, pushing him back down. "I'm so sorry."

Is she breaking up with him? He frowns in confusion, unsure what to do, when her hands are on him again. One hand turns his head away; her grip on his chin. He feels as if he could break it, but when he tries; it's rock solid. Her other hand splays over the skin of his neck. He draws in a ragged breath. "Oh  _shit."_ He whispers, when he realises. 

And then there's the sting of the bite. 

He writhes under her for a moment, before he calms. It starts hurting less, and a warm ebb of pleasure starts pulsing through his body. He feels pliant and dozy, and he marvels briefly, at how well adapted vampires are. Very evolved predators, he thinks, as his hands collapse onto the mattress. He feels weak and docile, all the will to fight gone. He finds himself eager to please. Tilting his head further so his neck's bare. He lets out a deep, guttural moan. it's a strange, satisfying sense of contentment, he just wants to please her. Everything feels hazy and cloudy and soft.

She pulls away with a ragged gasp, and he looks up at her through lidded eyes. She's beautiful, he thinks dully. Even as a monster. His blood is dripping down her chin, and her eyes are black. "Juggie," she whispers, black disappearing in the wake of blue. "Oh god, Juggie,  _Juggie!"_ She's screaming, and he realises he must be dying. 

"Mom!" comes a frantic voice, and he doesn't have the energy to turn, but he knows it's Emily. She must be a vampire too. 

"Help me," Betty cries frantically, and he closes his eyes a while to rest. Suddenly his lips are being pried open and a foul tasting liquid is being passed into his mouth. He gags on it; retching violently, but Betty slams her hand down over his mouth. "Swallow it." She weeps, brushing the hair out of his face. "It'll save you." Emily comes into view then, both of them hovering above him; blonde angels. 

Angel vampires, he thinks, before everything fades to black, is a rather jarring juxtaposition. 

 

* * * 

 

When he wakes up, he feels a very primal sense of fear. 

Everything hurts. Hurts like hell fire, and he screams as loudly as he can, only to realise that no noise is coming out. His mouth- there's tape over his mouth, and he jerks but finds he's in binds. He draws in ferocious breaths through his nose and takes stock. He's tied to Betty's bed, his hands to the headboard and his legs bound together. His jeans are back on him, but there's no shirt. He's been propped up by pillows, which is rather nice, he thinks distantly. It lets him see the entire room. He tries to calm down, and looks longingly at the rope around his wrists. Maybe he can try to saw the rope-

"She feels really bad," comes a voice, and he watches with wide eyes as Emily steps into the room. She looks so normal. A little girl. Everything's still burning. Still hurting. Emily looks sad. "Mom didn't want to- she couldn't help herself. It's been really dangerous." 

Jughead makes a muffled noise against his tape and tugs against his binds reflexively. If he thinks about it, he's not getting free of this. 

"Emily, what are you doing?" Comes a gentle voice, and then Betty's at the door. She's clad in a silk bathrobe, and her hair's been brushed over one shoulder. He stares at her pleadingly and pulls ineffectually at the ropes. She runs over to him, and onto the bed, caressing his face. "Juggie," she whispers, cradling him. He feels better in her grasp, which is weird, he thinks. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-" she works at peeling off the tape over his mouth. She does it slowly, and he gulps in the fresh air. 

"Betty," he rasps, "what's happening-"

"We're vampires," she says, eyes wet, and smooths her thumbs over his cheeks. Emily clambers onto the bed by his feet. "We were made a long time ago. Kidnapped back in the 1600's when we were still mortal. When the one who made us died, we escaped. Jug," she clumps her lashes together, "now you'll be one too-"

"What?"

"I'm sorry," she cries, "it was the only way to save you."

He writhes against his bindings again, shaking his head in fear. "No! No- let me go, we don't have to-"

"I drank too much," she insists through tears. "I couldn't stop-"

"But you did stop." Emily insists with loving eyes. "Because she loves you, Jug. She loved you more than she loved the taste of blood-"

"This isn't  _fucking_ Twilight!" He screams at the top of his voice, and the tape's back over his mouth in an instant. They move quick as flashes, and he's got whiplash from watching. He swears and screams through the pain, but they stay by his side. Betty tells him in a smooth, caring voice about their kind. About the rules. It feels like the world he was in before was a tiny bubble in an ocean, and now he's been set loose. A sting of fire flashes down his spine, and he succumbs willingly into darkness. 

 

* * *

 

He doesn't recognise the man in the mirror.

It's him, but...it's not him. Gone are his dark blue locks, and in their place is a brilliant blond. Gone are his saccharine green eyes and in their place, the Cooper blue he so admired. His skin looks flawless, but eerily- gone are his moles and freckles. His pale skin is irritatingly, but satisfyingly, not that different from his born hue. He looks like some version of himself, but not- but not him. Betty's reflection comes to join him, and then so does Emily in front of them. She's a child- but she's not a child. She's got the brain of a woman in her. A woman over four hundred years old. 

They look...jesus they look freaky in the mirror. With the blond hair and the blue eyes they all look related. 

"We're going to have to move." Emily says with a sigh, and Betty nods, reaching up to brush Jughead's hair behind his ear. 

Betty loops her arm through Jughead's, and he places his hand on Emily's shoulder, just to complete the picture they make. "Yes, we will. I'll have to get a wig if we don't want to pass ourselves off all as siblings. Maybe a black one." Betty muses. "Jug, you can get a job as a teacher, that way you can make sure Emily doesn't have to sit mindlessly."

"Yes please," Emily beams. "If I have to read Hungry Hungry Caterpillar one more time, I might break." 

Jughead stares at the picture they make and he nods slowly. "I'm hungry." He says, and their eyes meet unnervingly in the glass. 

 

* * * 

 

"Oh honey, look," Meredith calls, peeking through the bedroom curtains, the early morning sun barely dawning. "A new family's moving in opposite." 

Jonathan comes to join his wife, and peers out. He sees a blond man twirling his blonde daughter in the air whilst the dark haired wife takes a photo. They're all laughing as the moving men loads their stuff into the house. He hums. "They look friendly." 

Meredith sighs longingly as she watches the daughter run and chase a butterfly. Her eyes linger over the couple as they embrace; kissing in front of the huge house that's been empty for months. 

What a perfect little family they are, she thinks to herself. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this was a bit different but Interview with The Vampire is one of my all time favourite films and I hope I did it somewhat justice. I'd love to do this story from Betty's POV but of course, it's up to you!
> 
> Let me know with a prompt/comment/declaration of love!
> 
> MWAH MWAH


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